


The Breaking Point

by Epoxide (MiyuWrites)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyuWrites/pseuds/Epoxide
Summary: Things aren't going well for Jaskier. Fortunately he has a witcher to help him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130
Collections: Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	The Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TerraOfTheTeenTitans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerraOfTheTeenTitans/gifts).



> For the [following prompt](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=48813#cmt48813) over at the witcher kink meme:  
> We all know that baths are the running theme in this fandom, but it's always Jaskier taking care of Geralt. What if Jaskier has been suffering a series of diverse, upsetting situations until it all culminates with him falling in mud to save his lute. Maybe he was pushed? Maybe it suffers damage anyway? Of course, Jaskier is usually in high spirits, but enough is enough. He starts crying and Geralt just takes care of him, bathes him and spoils him. He's fumbling, but he enjoys doing it.
> 
> I don't think I got everything OP wanted but hopefully it will be a good attempt anyway. :)  
> Also, this is my first attempt in this fandom, despite being super into these two sillies, so please be kind.

It had been a dreadful day, so far.

No.

It had been a dreadful week.

Everything seemed to be going wrong for Jaskier.

He had lost his voice over the course of the weekend and his ability to earn coin had diminished greatly. His latest dalliance had ended terribly, with him escaping the house – and the bull-like, enraged husband – by the skin of his teeth.

For a moment it looked as things might go better. He’d met up with Geralt and the prospect of an adventure that would inspire him to create a new song, new brilliant and clever lyrics put him back in high spirits. Even if Geralt continued to be his silent, grumbly self, riding Roach and only sparing the smallest of _hums_ at him.

The excitement soon turned to gloom as rain started pouring down. Incessantly.

And Geralt kept going.

Jaskier walking right behind him, as fast as he could. No longer speaking because the bad weather was turning the roads dangerous. Not that the roads were the only danger lurking.

They were attacked by a large, grey creature – it zeroed in on Jaskier first and had him crashing against a large tree. His vision went dark right as he saw Geralt do quick work of it. And when he opened his eyes again, there was a large, warm hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s gravelly voice brought the world back into focus. The frown carved into Geralt’s features seemed to ease a little as the witcher helped the bard to a standing position. “Hmm.” He huffed while taking one step back. Jaskier did catch himself against the tree and got to stand up without his head spinning.

“I’m fine, Geralt.” He said, only to shoot him a quick, cheeky, smile. “Although I could ride on Roach for a little, as my head is a bit airy.”

The witcher didn’t deign to answer, turned on his heel and mounted Roach once again.

Jaskier let out a huff, momentarily resting his hands on his hips before surveying the area. Fortunately the rain had stopped falling, despite the threat for more on the overcast sky. The bard quickly hurried to his lute, the case had fallen upon the monster’s attack and fortunately it had been unscathed. Jaskier hugged his lute and hurried after Geralt. The lute in hand and the witcher by his side and it seemed like everything would go well.

Of course that the Fates were watching and things weren’t going to go the way Jaskier wanted.

Oh, no.

Because it looked like his luck had definitely ran out.

The town they’d gotten into wasn’t too welcoming but the tavern accepted their – Geralt’s – coin. They had a room, Roach was well accommodated in the stable and there was food and drink to fill their bellies.

After the first night, Geralt set to do his monster hunting and Jaskier followed – or tried to, because he lost him. First in the crowd and then the forest. And if he wanted a sign of poor luck then losing his tall friend was _it_.

But Jaskier kept going, undeterred. He was going to find Geralt and get to watch yet another song-worthy fight.

Yet, Jaskier’s foot slipped and he rolled down the hill, both his clothes and exposed skin being snagged and cut by the thorny bush. With a gasp, he came to a stop, fortuitously he stopped not too far from Geralt who staring intensely at him with those amber eyes of his. The creature – whose name he hadn’t caught because Geralt had stayed mum, as was his usual – lay prone at his feet and a puddle of blood between it and Geralt.

“Oh, Geralt. There you are,” the bard said, gasping slightly and resting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Did you get rid of the thing already?”

“Hm.” Was the simple response, while Geralt sheathed his silver sword. Without another word, he turned on his heel, grasped the thing’s head and walked towards Roach.

“Talkative as usual,” Jaskier grumbled under his breath, fully aware that his friend would have caught his words.

It didn’t take long for them to be heading back into the town, the ever present threat of rain overhead.

Rain started falling – hard – as they approached the small town.

The first drops fell just as they got to the inn’s stables. Jaskier went ahead to the inn, as he knew that Geralt needed his time with Roach.

It was still pretty early – there were still a couple of hours until night fall, more noticeable were it not raining – but inside the inn there was already too much noise and commotion.

The door opened with a bang and two figures emerged. Two men walked outside, taking unsteady steps and not able to walk in a straight line. They were clearly drunk off their arses, talking loudly, shoving each other and laughing raucously over some nonsense.

They hadn’t noticed Jaskier yet, and that was fine by him. He tried to pass by unnoticed.

Yet, just as he was walking by them, the brute to the left spread his arms and hit Jaskier. It was so unexpected that the bard lost his footing. He did his best to remain upright but the path was muddy and very slippery.

Jaskier fell.

Still while going down he contorted himself in a way to try to keep his lute unscathed.

The ground met him with a very noisy squelch, cold mud and an out of tune pang that didn’t signal anything good.

With worried movements, Jaskier sat up and removed the lute from its case. Only to see the damage – the neck was broken.

Cradling his precious lute to his chest, Jaskier closed his eyes.

It was just too much.

Tears streaked down his cheeks as he continued kneeling.

* * *

Geralt patted Roach’s neck affectionately before leaving the stable.

It had stopped raining, which was a good sign. Maybe when they left town on the next day the bard would be able to be more comfortable – and whine less about the bad weather and having to camp in the woods.

It was odd, Geralt thought, how often his thoughts had started to stray towards the bard. A bard who could be quite a nuisance, who didn’t shut up, who was almost forcefully making himself a permanent place in Geralt’s thoughts, who was… kneeling in the mud?

Geralt walked faster toward where Jaskier was. Curled protectively. The faint scent of salt in the air.

“Jaskier? Are you alright?” he asked as he knelt beside the bard, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

The only reaction he got was a sniffle and a slight tremble of the other’s frame.

‘That’s it.’ Geralt thought before helping Jaskier stand. The wobble of the bard’s legs didn’t result in a fall once again just because the witcher reacted quickly and scooped him up, holding him bridal-style.

Geralt walked into the inn, his presence seeming to momentarily cool down the bustle inside. Geralt walked to the counter, unbothered.

“I’d like a room, with a bath,” he said in a gravely tone, a small pouch filled with coin was thrown into the counter.

The hurried nod and babbled answer he got from the innkeeper had him turning on his heel and walking to the requested room.

Closing the door behind them, Geralt let out a small sigh. The too strong scents and noises were left behind and now only he and Jaskier mattered.

A small fireplace was lit, warming up the room and casting an orange glow over it.

Geralt walked to it, carefully sitting Jaskier in the small bench by the fire. The bard was shivering slightly. Gently, he pried the lute from Jaskier’s hands and placed it on the small side table. Then he started taking off his boots. A knock on the door and, after Geralt let them in, a couple of stable hands entered, carrying buckets of hot water. They took a few trips to and fro to fill the bathtub but fortunately they were inconspicuous enough to not bother them.

Once the tub was full, Geralt closed the door firmly.

Now, came the difficult part.

“Jaskier, time to get in the tub.” Geralt said, standing imposingly by the curled-up, nearly crumpled-up bard.

Cerulean eyes turned to Geralt. Tired.

“I don’t- Geralt. Not…” he let out a sad huff.

“Yes, you do.” Geralt said sternly before feeling himself frown. That was not the right stance, he knew. He busied himself with finding the vials the bard used for the baths. “You will feel much better after a bath.”

“I think I’d rather sleep a little instead.” He said, which was followed by a small yawn.

“You’re not going to become ill by your idiotic stubbornness, _bard_.” Geralt quickly said in a growl. The flinch he got made him want to go outside and face whichever creature got in his way, while unarmed. It would be much easier than trying to help his bard.

“’m not being stubborn, Geralt. I’m tired.” He batted wearily at Geralt when he started to remove his sodden clothes.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied noncommittally as he helped Jaskier stand and nearly carried him to the bathtub.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaimed, wiggling weakly but he let out a contented sigh as the warm water enveloped his limbs.

The subtle scent of lavender and citrus permeated the air.

“See? Better.” Geralt replied, biting back a smile. He knelt beside the tub, washcloth in hand. It was a familiar scene, if mostly reversed because Jaskier tended to be the one helping Geralt, not the other way around. But Geralt _wanted_ to do this. He wanted to show by his actions, as words tended to be harder, that he was there for Jaskier.

Pink bloomed in Jaskier’s cheeks, the sadness receding from his eyes and posture. From his scent.

Something new was happening, between the two of them, at that precise moment. Something fragile and tender.

Geralt moved around, kneeling behind Jaskier.

“Head?” he asked. Jaskier turned his head to glance at him, a near-there smile fluttering on his lips before he dunked under the water. He didn’t take long to re-emerge and shake the hair out of his eyes, splashing water everywhere. An impish smile starting to take over his lips. Geralt made a lather and quickly washed his hair. The witcher was careful, mindful of his strength. He could help but notice how his scarred hands contrasted so much with the smooth skin of the other’s neck, shoulders and back. But fortunately he could notice how the tension left him, more and more.

“You were right,” Jaskier said with a sigh.

“Time to rinse your hair,” Geralt replied gruffly, standing with a bucket of fresh water. He let it fall and ran a hand through the dark hair, rinsing it. “Time to get out.” He extended his hand. Jaskier took it and stood. A towel was handed out to him.

“Thanks, Geralt.” Jaskier said, walking to stand by the fireplace, patting himself dry. “I… things just got to me,” he approached the side table, brushing the pads of his fingers affectionately over his broken lute.

“We can find someone to take care of it.” Geralt said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But now you need to rest.”

“That… would be pretty nice,” Jaskier agreed. “Stay with me?” he asked as he finished drying his hair and sat down on the bed.

“Hm,” Geralt agreed, quickly disrobing until he was in his smallclothes. He sat on the other side of the bed, waiting while Jaskier lay down under the covers. He slipped under them too, curling an arm around the bard’s waist, scooting closer to him until Jaskier’s back was against his chest.

Jaskier sighed happily, a scent of content twined with the lavender and citrus of the bath.

Geralt didn’t usually let himself do this but for one night, for one night he could let himself be.

With Jaskier.


End file.
